Extracirricular Activities
by Smileyfax
Summary: Daria is pursuing some rather unorthodox extracirricular activities in Mr. DeMartino's history class. Now with less smut!
1. Chapter 1

So, I've decided to edit Extracirricular Activities to exise the smutty bits.

Originally, I jotted out the first chapter on a whim, for several reasons:

1. I'd never seen a Daria/DeMartino shipper done before. (Excluding fics where DeMartino flips his lid and kills Daria).

2. I was recently inspired by the Valentine's Day drabble challenge on the Fandom Blog Mk. II to do a little something for Mr. DeMartino.

3. I'd just re-read the hilarious Metroid fic Dragon's Hide, in which Samus acquires a shrink ray, shrinks Ridley, and proceeds to spank him.

However, I've been compelled to write a chapter a day over the past few days, and the fic is growing beyond its erotic origins. Tasteful (or tasteless) as they may be, the smutty bits just don't fit in with my vision of the fic anymore.

Now, without further ado, the PG-13 version of Extracirricular Activities!

XXXX

The bell rang, dismissing Anthony DeMartino's students for yet another day. Many of them looked forward to goofing off for the rest of the day; a rare few actually planned to do the assignment given to them by their teacher.

As the students filed past his desk, Mr. DeMartino spoke up. "Miss Morgendorffer, could you PLEASE stay after to talk about your latest WORK?" he asked in his customary grit, peppered with the occasional spike in volume.

Daria Morgendorffer turned to her companion and best friend, Jane Lane. "Catch you later," Jane offered, and left the class without her. Their friendship had recently been under a great deal of strain over young Thomas Sloane, but both women had severed ties with the boorish young lad and mended their bond, now stronger than ever.

Finally, the last student exited the classroom, leaving Daria alone with her instructor. DeMartino tapped the pile of papers on his desk. "Do you have anything you'd like to SAY about the work you've handed IN today, Miss Morgendorffer?" he asked.

"No, Mr. DeMartino. Why, is there anything wrong with it?" she replied innocently.

"Technically, no. Every answer IS correct, but you have ONCE AGAIN treated them with your scathing WIT. Frankly, Miss Morgendorffer, I think you're becoming a DISCIPLINE PROBLEM."

A shocked look bloomed on Daria's face. "Oh no! Will you report me to Ms. Li?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"I really SHOULD...but perhaps, we might SETTLE this, HERE and NOW."

"Settle it how, Mr. DeMartino?" Daria asked in a curious tone of voice.

"A little...corporal punishment," DeMartino finished in a whisper, a small grimace on his face.

"Corporal punishment?" Daria asked in a very quiet tone of voice. "What sort of...corporal punishment?"

"Miss Morgendorffer, I think a good spanking would set you right," DeMartino assured her.

Daria hung her head. "Very well, if I must...to avoid Ms. Li's wrath." As she leaned herself over DeMartino's desk, the man stood, walked to the door, and closed and locked it.

"Now then, Miss Morgendorffer, let's get started."

XXXX

Jane walked through the roof access door, picked an air vent at random, and sat down next to it. Ever since the incident involving Tommy Sherman's ghost, she and Daria had discovered that the air vents of Lawndale High were an excellent place to pick up conversations, gossip, and blackmail material (that one mostly concerning a certain red-headed sibling of Daria's). As Jane strained her ears to pick up anything unsavory, the sound of flesh rhythmically striking flesh echoed up to meet her.

"Hm, I wonder what that could be," Jane wondered. "Flesh on flesh...oh no, not possible. Not here in school!" Jane struggled to suppress a laugh, not wanting to scare off the persons on the other end. After a moment's thought, though, Jane discarded the idea that it was sex. If two people were coming together hard enough to generate that kind of sound, they would end up seriously bruised and sore. "Probably spanking," Jane deduced. "Kinky," she added.

The spanking then stopped suddenly, and Jane was afraid she had spoken too loud. Then, a voice drifted through the air vent which assuaged her fears.

"I think that will be enough for today, Miss Morgendorffer."

Jane's eyes bugged out.

XXXX

Daria encircled DeMartino with her arms. "Enough? Not even one...more...little..." DeMartino wrapped his arms around her and leaned in to meet her lips with his own.

The kiss lingered several moments before DeMartino finally broke contact. "You probably should get going," he said quietly.

"Yeah," she agreed. "See you tomorrow, Anthony," she offered.

"You too, Daria."

XXXX

On the roof of the building, Jane sat next to an air vent, near catatonic. Unless Daria was playing a sick, twisted prank, then she and DeMartino --

The roof access door opened and Daria stepped through. Jane, to her credit, managed to not stare at Daria as if she had just announced that Hitler had some pretty good ideas as she approached. 

"Heeey, Daria," Jane greeted.

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"Sooooo...what did Mr. DeMartino want to talk to you about?" Jane was proud; she managed to wait all of five seconds before broaching the subject.

Daria shrugged. "I guess he's getting tired of the color commentary I put in my work. He asked me to cut it down."

Jane nodded. "Was that before or after he spanked the hell out of you?!" 


	2. Chapter 2

Jane nodded. "Was that before or after he spanked the hell out of you?!"

"Gee, Jane, I don't think everybody in town heard you shout out that secret that could ruin two lives. Could you maybe shout it a little louder?"

"Daria...seriously. DeMartino? DeMarfuckingtino?"

Daria joined Jane next to the traitorous air vent. "It started over the summer, at the O.K. to Cry Corral. I'd never interacted socially with a teacher outside of school before. We got to talking. It turns out we have a lot more in common than our mutual contempt for Kevin -- literature, contempt for idiots besides Kevin, an intrinsic sense of social justice...Anthony took the position at the camp because he was losing his will to live."

XXXX

Daria poked into the supply closet, looking for something to clean up the mess the children had left that day. She entertained revenge fantasies for Mr. O'Neill and her mother, both involving significant quantities of public humiliation. As she fumbled for the cord to click on the bulb hanging from the ceiling, she heard whimpering from deeper inside the closet. "Um, hello?" she tentatively called out. "The buses have already left, but I can call your parents..."

"Oh!" a voice called out in return. "Miss Morgendorffer! Uh...please...leave me."

"Mr. DeMartino?" Daria was embarrassed to have caught him in a moment of vulnerability. "Um...what's wrong?" she finally asked. "Maybe if you talk about it, you'll feel better."

"Maybe," he admitted, before drying his face in the darkness and stepping out with his student.

They talked as they cleaned. "Miss Morgendorffer, I haven't been happy in years," DeMartino finally admitted. "When I first became a teacher, I wanted to change the world for the better -- to really make a positive impact in kids' lives. But the Kevin Thompsons and the Brittany Taylors and the Tommy Shermans of the world --" Daria briefly shuddered at the memory of the man she had cursed to death moments before he departed the mortal coil -- "They're all so...hopeless. One of my first students was Doug Thompson, Kevin's father." The revelation surprised Daria. "He had a promising athletic career ahead of him -- a football scholarship, sure, maybe even the big leagues someday. And then he went and knocked up his cheerleader girlfriend Charlene with Kevin, and now they're stuck in Lawndale for the rest of their lives. I occasionally think to myself, maybe if I hadn't given Doug byes all the time, he might have actually learned the material and made something of himself...or at least he would have gotten kicked off the team and wouldn't have gotten Charlene pregnant."

Daria had long since given up the pretense of cleaning, her attention entirely focused on the man pouring his heart and soul out in front of her.

"Did you know the Thompsons are hovering close to poverty? If Doug Thompson didn't work extra shifts at the manure plant, Kevin would probably be the star waterboy of the Lions. Football training camp, a platinum membership at the local gym, and the 'perks' befitting a 'Q.B.' all add up. I've even heard that Charlene...well, I don't spread rumors. But the Thompsons provide for their child, they provide damn well. They have that, at least."

DeMartino sighed. "With Kevin, it's especially troubling, because I see him heading down the exact same path his father did. If he drops out -- if he gets Brittany Taylor with child -- it'll be like I failed all over again. I can't see how I could go on teaching after that...and teaching is the only thing I have to live for."

Daria remained silent for several moments before realizing DeMartino had finished his story. "Uh. Well. What about the good students like, uh, Jodie, and Mack, and Ted?"

"And you, Miss Morgendorffer." DeMartino let out a small smirk. "Never try to discredit yourself to me, especially since I know you and Miss Landon are neck-and-neck in GPA."

Daria bowed her head, embarrassed at the compliment. "I mean...unless this year is an anomaly, it seems that for every dull-witted student, you have two eager to learn. And you shouldn't let Kevin's father's failure bother you because you aren't responsible for his decisions, just like you aren't responsible for Kevin's. Sure, it's a tragedy that the father and maybe the son will never live up to their full potential, but it happens to millions of people every day. And you shouldn't quit either, because maybe -- just maybe -- a miracle will happen and Kevin will actually learn something."

DeMartino considered Daria's words for several moments. "And I had you pegged for a pessimist," he finally replied. "Alright, I won't give up. Thank you for listening to me, Miss Morgendorffer."

Daria nodded, then stood up to leave. She hesitated at the doorway, then turned back around. "Why do you call me 'Miss Morgendorffer'?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" DeMartino asked in reply.

"Well, when you address Kevin, you always call him by his first name, Kevin. But you always call me Miss Morgendorffer. Why?"

This gave Mr. DeMartino a pause. Finally, he answered. "It's because I respect you, Miss Morgendorffer, and don't think it's exactly fair to address you by your first name when you don't address me by my first name. It's not just you," he assured her. "I also address Miss Landon as such, as well as anybody I consider my mental equal."

Daria nodded. She thought for a moment. "I think I'd like it," she said. "If you called me Daria...Anthony."

Mr. DeMartino considered this for a moment. "Very well then, Daria."

XXXX

Daria and Jane had adjourned to the Lane household. After Daria dropped the bombshell, they noticed it was starting to get a bit late, so they left the schoolgrounds before Ms. Li released the bomb-sniffing dogs to prowl the grounds at night as usual. Daria hadn't relayed any more of the story to Jane, as the recall of that day she had found Mr. DeMartino weeping in the cleaning supply closet still affected her.

Daria remained silent for nearly an hour, as Jane contemplated a blank easel. Finally, she sat next to Daria as she lay staring at the ceiling. "Goddamnit, Daria, I want to know what happens next." Daria sighed.

"It was the last day of camp. All the kids had gone home already, cheering 'Uncle Anthony' on for his heroics during camp. Once again, Mr. O'Neill had asked us to stay behind to clean up the mess the campers had left. This time, though, since the kids had been hiking, we got to go through the forest and pick up litter there.

XXXX

Mr. DeMartino strode along the path with a mighty grin. He was riding high on a confidence boost from the campers' unanimous approval of his counseling. In one hand, he held a long rod with a sharp point on the end, useful for spearing litter. In the other hand, a trash bag, useful for holding litter. Daria was similarily armed, though not in temperament.

"Today has been a pretty good day, Daria," he confided. "I'm 100 ready to face Kevin and whatever else Lawndale can throw at me!"

"Too bad school's still a few weeks away," Daria pointed out. DeMartino shrugged. He didn't care.

They impaled refuse for a while longer. DeMartino finally stopped for a minute. He set the tools aside, leaning them next to a tree. "Listen, Daria...I want to thank you again for the talk we had the other day. You really helped give my problems a fresh perspective. You are possibly one of the best students I have had the pleasure to teach, and I am very sorry that we only have one more school year to look forward to."

Daria's cheeks burned at the content of DeMartino's words. The deep, dark, dormant part of her brain -- her impulsive side -- whispered into her ear, 'Hug him'. She sat the trash-gathering implements down, walked over, and hugged him. DeMartino was startled at the turn of events, but quickly returned the hug. It had been a long time since anybody had hugged him.

Daria tilted her head up towards DeMartino's. He glanced down, and their eyes locked. The gaze held for a moment and then -- their brains whispering the same command into their ears -- they closed the distance between their lips.

This, their first shared kiss, was relatively chaste, a matter of brushing their lips against one another's. They pulled back, then, and maybe they could have closed Pandora's Box if they had let go.

Their second kiss was more intimate, followed quickly by a third, and a fourth...their lips grew hungrier for access, reflecting the hunger Daria and DeMartino both felt.

Breaking contact, Daria took DeMartino by the hand through a few clumps of bushes.

XXXX

"Then, we made love, after I let him know I was on the pill."

Jane stopped Daria. "Wait, you're on the pill?"

"Uh, yeah. I sort of started taking it when I started going out with Tom." Daria was still uncomfortable about that period in their friendship.

"Afterwards, we talked about the consequences. He could lose his career, potentially go to jail if there's suspicion that our relationship was going on before my 18th birthday, and become completely disgraced in the community -- not particularly something to lose sleep over. As for myself, suspicion will be cast upon every grade I ever got in his class, and I'll be an even bigger social pariah than I already am."

Jane nodded. "Well, you know I won't tell, amiga," she reassured her friend. Daria nodded.

"But why did you do it, though? You just explained what happened, not your motivations."

"You're too observant for your own good, Lane," Daria teased. She was silent for a minute, thinking. "I think part of it was from the whole Tom situation. I was so frustrated with the way he was treating me, I wanted to distance myself from him as much as humanly possible."

"That's not all of it, though," Jane guessed.

"Tom didn't make me feel the same way I did when I was with Anthony at that camp. Nobody ever has. He's funny, caring, and passionate about his work." She let flash briefly a mischievous smirk. "Plus, he's fucking fantastic in bed."

Jane immediately covered her ears, too late to stop the information from reaching her brain. "Oh God, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much information!" she protested. "Seriously, though, Daria, I guess I'm glad you found a guy you like, but have you really thought about the 30-year age difference?"

Daria made a noncommittal noise. "I haven't really given it much thought. After all, you tried to hook me up with Trent a bunch of times, and he's what, six years older than me?"

Jane grumbled at a volume that Daria couldn't catch. More louder, she spoke, "I'm just asking you if you know where the relationship is headed, long-term."

For that, Daria had no answer.

XXXX

Daria knocked on the door. She hoped she had the address correct.

A woman answered. Clearly she had once been the belle of the ball, but time and stress had gradually chipped away at her youth. Enough still remained, though, that she could still be considered quite the catch.

"Hello, Mrs. Thompson," Daria greeted. "Is Kevin home? I'm one of his classmates, here to tutor him." 


	3. Chapter 3

Daria and DeMartino lay together, nude, in a cheap hotel room around a hundred miles away from Lawndale. Daria was examining every inch of DeMartino's body, examining moles, wrinkles, scars, and other badges of age. Her hand lingered on a scar several inches wide just below his ribcage. "Where did you get this one?" she asked him.

"Vietnam."

Daria was silent for several minutes. "What was it like?"

"You'd have to ask my brother about that; I was in action for all of three weeks before one of the men marching ahead of me tripped a wire. I woke up in a hospital in Japan, with a one-way ticket back home."

"And your brother?"

"Arlington."

XXXX

Some time later, DeMartino was exploring Daria's body with equal interest. The contrast to his own body was striking: Her youth and womanhood meant that she was all smooth curves, whereas his body was an uneven plateau in comparison. He fingered her belly button, causing her to jiggle with suppressed giggles. "I was pierced there once," she offered up before he could get the chance to poke her some more.

"Really?" DeMartino closely examined the flesh around the region. "No scar. Why did you get pierced in the first place?"

She should have let the tickling continue. "Um."

DeMartino stared at her expectantly.

"It was sort of...for a guy," she finally explained, closing her eyes in humilation.

They soon shot open again as DeMartino redoubled his tickling efforts. She leapt from the bed and DeMartino followed her, cackling like a madman.

XXXX

DeMartino spooned Daria, facing the window. The early morning sun flooded the room with orange light.

"Jane knows," Daria confessed. DeMartino's heckles rose.

"Will she tell?" he asked.

"No."

XXXX

Daria was dressed, missing only her green jacket to fill out her usual ensemble. She was knotting her boots as DeMartino buttoned his shirt. "Another weekend gone," she lamented.

She finished knotting the boots and walked over to DeMartino, who had begun the process of putting on a tie. Daria took over and began knotting it.

As she worked, she asked, "What are we?"

The question caught DeMartino off-guard. "Huh?" he replied intelligently.

"Are we dating?" Daria elaborated.

"Uh. I hadn't thought about it," he admitted.

"The thing is, I like you. I think I really like you. And while the sex is great, I'd like more. Besides, it's not like you can get in more trouble for dating me considering what we've already done."

DeMartino was silent. "Like...long-term?" he asked, as if the notion surprised him.

"Yes, Anthony." She pulled him to her with the knotted tie.

After a long moment, he pulled away. "You make a persuasive argument," he conceded. He leaned in again to seal the deal.

XXXX

DeMartino pulled the car to a halt in front of the Lane household. "Well, see you in class," DeMartino offered. Daria squeezed his hand -- a kiss naturally out of the question in public. She stepped out and watched as he drove off. As she moved towards the door to Jane's house, she noticed something off about the way she was moving. She looked down at her legs.

She was skipping. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Excellent work, Agent Powers." The debriefing by Director Petersen was wrapping up, meaning the mission was officially over. It would not be so in Melody's mind, though -- Marcus' betrayal stung all the more deeply that they had shared beds. It was a cold satisfaction that he had been in the missile silo when the rocket misfired, destroying the entire stronghold. Melody had of course removed the fissile material from the warhead beforehand -- it wouldn't do for Europe to get a dusting of plutonium.

"The President himself asked me to extend his personal thanks, interrupting Melody's reverie.

For the first time, she really looked at the Director. He had at least a decade or two on her, but he was as steadfastly American as Melody herself. No risk of betrayal, but he was a prime target for assassination, given his position.

Melody discarded the fear the second it turned itself over in her mind. After all, she didn't become one of the agency's top agents by being cautious.

"Do you ever get out from behind that desk, sir?" she asked her superior.

Confusion showed on the man's face. "What do you mean, Agent Powers?"

"Would you like to go on a field mission with me? To my apartment maybe?"

"Your apartment! Agent Powers--"

"Or maybe we can just stake out the situation here, and see what develops," she interrupted, walking around the desk to him.

"Agent Powers, this is against protocol!" the Director warned. Melody ignored him as she lowered herself into his lap, the man either unable or unwilling to resist.

"It's like this, Director Petersen," Melody began. She pulled the knot off of his tie, and tossed it aside. "You're the only man who's been a constant in my life ever since I joined the agency. Everyone else is either dead or a Red, which is the same thing. You just...make sense."

By now, the Director's shirt was mostly unbuttoned. He tried one more time: "Agent Powers, America comes first."

Melody considered this. "No, Director. America may be the number one priority, but I come first." And with that, the spy caught his mouth with hers.

XXXX

Jane set the story down.

"Well?" Daria prompted.

"It's pretty good," Jane finally said. Daria released the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I especially liked the part where the whole story was just a metaphor for your relationship with Mr. DeMartino." Daria scowled.

"I'm thinking about submitting it to Musings magazine," she said in a curt tone.

"You should!" Jane encouraged. "But do it under a pseudonym, on the off chance that someone in this town reads it and starts putting two and two together."

"In this town?" Daria snorted.

"Oh, you should show it to DeMartino, see what he thinks."

XXXX

Daria didn't have to wait for him to finish before she got his opinion. All throughout the story, a vicious grin was plastered on his face. Whenever he reached a choice bit, he would cackle or cheer. Daria allowed herself to smile, and remain smiling, at his praise.

He finished the story and turned to Daria. "This story is GREAT!" he practically shouted. "I absolutely LOVE it!"

"You know..." Daria hesitated a moment. "I've written a lot of Melody Powers stories. If you'd like, I could bring them over for you to look at."

Daria could almost imagine the drool oozing from her lover's mouth.

XXXX

"Hello, Daria!" Daria turned away from her contemplation of the Outgoing Mail slot to the familiar voice which had greeted her.

"Uh, hi, Mr. O'Neill," she awkwardly replied.

The teacher glanced down at the envelope in Daria's hand. "Musings Magazine? Daria, are you submitting a story? That's wonderful!"

"Um...no, just a letter to the editor."

"Oh, that's too bad," Mr. O'Neill lamented. "You're such an excellent writer, Daria, I'm sure they'd publish you if you submitted something!"

"Maybe," she admitted, now very glad she had taken Jane's advice and used a pseudonym. She distracted O'Neill by pointing out a loose shoelace, shoved the envelope into the slot, and fled before he had finished retying.

XXXX

Daria weaved her way past Quinn and her posse of fashionables, clustered around the newest Waif and bemoaning some almost-certainly petty disaster which had befallen them. Instead of offering up color commentary, she made a beeline to the mail, where the response letter from Musings she had been waiting for lay.

"Congratulations...please reply within fourteen days...will publish in two months..." She lowered the letter in shock.

"I'm a published writer," she announced.

Quinn looked over at Daria's outburst. Her brow furrowed for a moment, then her face exploded into an 'Aha!' expression. Putting on her sweetest smile, she approached Daria. "Oh si-is! Could you do me one eensy-weensy favor?" 


	5. Chapter 5

Quinn felt her stomach tighten into a knot as she read the latest Waif. "I can't believe all our newsletters were wrong!" she wailed. Her cohorts in the Fashion Club leaned closer to get an eyeful of Waif's damning forecast. "Hems hike up, heels fall down, tweezing isn't pleasing, and dark colors like aubergine are over!"

"Who would have thought that brightly comic tones like peach and lemon would suddenly come into vogue? ...I need to be alone." Sandi, President of the club and Quinn's best friend, stood up and left.

"This is so sad," Tiffany said.

"Why does everything always happen to us?" Stacy questioned to nobody in particular.

The knot in Quinn's stomach tightened even more as her sister Daria walked into the room. She braced herself for one of her sister's usual barbs, but she was uncharacteristically quiet. In fact, she'd been acting weird...weirder than usual ever since the end of summer. She knew her sister had started going out with Tom Sloane, but then just as suddenly dropped him. Quinn thought it was an excellent use of dating strategy and tried to offer some other tips, but Daria had shrugged them off, though without the viper tongue she so often employed whenever Quinn had suggested anything before.

Her sister picked up a letter from the pile of mail. She opened it, mumbled something. Then she announced, "I'm a published writer."

The gears started turning in her head: Published writer. Fashion newsletter. The Highland High newspaper.

"Oh si-is! Could you do me one eensy-weensy favor?"

XXXX

Daria stood in DeMartino's kitchen, using the few edible items she'd found to prepare a meal for the two of them.

"So once Quinn offered to pay me, how could I resist?"

"...You covered the fashion beat?" DeMartino asked, still dumbfounded.

Daria shrugged. "It was an extracirricular mom shoved me into. Besides, it let me get an embarrassing picture of those two dumbasses I told you about." She poured a bowlful of noodles into the soup simmering on the stovetop.

DeMartino watched with interest as Daria stirred. "I never imagined anything could be done with this clearance-store garbage," he marvelled.

"All it takes is a little imagination, and some skill with cooking," Daria explained. She spooned the soup -- now ready -- into two waiting bowls, handing one to DeMartino and taking another for herself as they adjourned to the living room area of his apartment.

As they watched Godzilla step on office buildings in Tokyo, DeMartino spoke up. "The union is planning a strike soon, if Angela doesn't give in to our demands."

"What are you asking?"

"A ten-percent pay raise and my...other class dropped," DeMartino vaguely stated.

"Other class? I thought you just taught history."

DeMartino gritted his teeth. "During the last strike, Angela slipped a clause into the contract that we didn't notice until too late. It specified that we had to teach an adult education class every semester."

"And what was your class?" Daria pressed.

"...Sewing."

Thanks largely to Daria's stoic disposition, she didn't chuckle. "Well...that doesn't sound so bad."

"Except that I can't SEW!" The conversation died for a few minutes.

"Um...I can sew," Daria finally offered. "I could, uh, maybe assist."

DeMartino turned to Daria, then smiled. "Yes!" he cheered. "I'd make sure you got credit, of course."

"Credit?" Daria asked, surprised.

"Yes -- teacher's assistants get college credit. And Ms. Li would be required to pay you, too!" DeMartino's smile turned into an evil grin, relishing the thought of being able to pry open Ms. Li's tight fist. "You know..." he schemed. "I could make you my teaching assistant in history class, too. You're certainly good enough, and you'd be able to stay after more often, to help me...grade papers." His evin grin morphed again, this time into a leer.

"Anthony, if I didn't know better, I'd say you had more in mind than grading papers," Daria deadpanned. They sat their half-finished soup aside as they adjourned to the bedroom.

XXXX

Daria sat anxiously in Ms. Li's office, waiting for the administrator to come in and speak to her. After DeMartino and the others marched out of the office with determined looks on their faces, Ms. Li had made an announcement about how school would be continuing, concluding with summoning Daria to her office.

Finally, Ms. Li walked in. "Ah, Ms. Morgendorffer!" she greeted with false cheer. "You're wondering why I've called you here," she stated. Daria nodded.

"Well, I was wondering if you would teach Mr. DeMartino's class in his absence." The bottom of Daria's stomach dropped out.

"What?" Daria asked dumbly.

"Well, your position as his teaching assistant and your exceptional grades make you the prime choice for the job, really." Nevermind the fact that the ink wasn't even finised drying on the paperwork that had secured Daria the position in the first place.

"Um. Well, I'm flattered, but I, uh, support the teacher's strike."

Ms. Li nodded. "That's perfectly understandable, Ms. Morgendorffer, but you really don't have a choice in the matter. You see, your contract stipulates that you can substitute for a period of up to two weeks -- which can be extended at my discretion -- and it doesn't say a single thing about any moral objections you have as to why the teacher is absent in the first place. AND --" she cut Daria off as she was about to speak, "If you absolutely insist on refusing to fulfill your duties, then you will be sued for breach of contract, including damages from any wages you may have already collected and the forfeiture of college credit you would have received upon the conclusion of your duration as a TA. Plus," Ms. Li added as a footnote, "The class would still be taught by a 'scab', so your rebellion would be in vain. Any questions?"

Daria stonily shook her head, her face not betraying the anger she felt.

"Excellent! Sign here, please." 


	6. Chapter 6

Daria gazed serenely at the class of history students which were now her charges. They stared back, reminding Daria of something Nietzsche once said about the abyss. Kevin, in particular, reminded her of an abyss. She regretted the uncharitable thought the second it fired through her brain -- after all, Kevin's grades had grudgingly climbed up into the D range after she had subjected herself to repeated tutoring sessions with him.

She began to sink back into her memories of tutoring him, but then realized that she and the class were having a stare-off because she was supposed to be teaching it. She stood, took a sip of water from a glass she had on her desk, and began speaking.

"Who here can tell me about the Pullman Strike?" she began. Unsurprisingly, nobody offered up an answer.

"George Pullman owned the Pullman Palace Car Company, which manufactured railroad cars from the mid-1800s all the way past the dawn of the 20th century. Pullman also ran a company town called -- this is a huge surprise -- Pullman, which today is part of Chicago. Pullman's employees lived there in relative comfort, but were subject to the whims of Pullman himself, who ran the town with a bit of an iron fist."

She took another sip and continued her lecture.

"For the privilige of living in Pullman, Pullman's workers had their wages automatically docked. In some instances, their entire paycheck was gone before they even had a chance to spend on it. A less cheery way to put it would be 'debt slavery'."

A tiny switch flicked itself on inside of her, and Daria's eyes glinted with firelight from within.

"Pullman prohibited free press and public assembly in his town. He didn't allow any unauthorized denominations worship at the church in Pullman -- ironic, since the approved denominations refused to pay rent. It can be reasoned out that Pullman took the Bill of Rights to be a suggestion."

Her voice rose a single octave.

"During the Panic of 1893, Pullman decided to slash wages by nearly 30, while leaving rents and other costs the same, neglecting the detail that most workers were already on a strained budget. This sparked a boycott led by Eugene Debs, which soon evolved into a full-on strike. Over 100,000 workers walked off their jobs. Pullman and his cronies first tried to parry the blow with strikebreakers -- scabs -- but it wasn't enough. Calling upon President Grover Cleveland, he employed the full force of the United States Army, thousands of soldiers against unarmed civilians. Seventy casualties in all, among that thirteen dead.

Daria paused to take another sip of water, and to gauge the reactions of the class. They were spellbound by her tale.

"Say, aren't the teachers on strike right now?" Daria prompted them.

Kevin led the charge, leaping out of his chair and screaming at the top of his lungs. Many of his classmates followed him as he charged out the door, chanting "Stop the killing!" over and over.

Only a few students remained -- some of the girls, including Jane and Jodie, and Mack. Mack shook his head. "Daria, you'll probably get fired for inciting a riot on your first day."

She nodded almost imperceptibly, a smile evident on her face for a brief moment.

XXXX

Daria kicked her feet up in the mostly-empty teacher's lounge. The rumor that Ms. Li was going to sic the bomb-sniffing dogs upon the striking teachers had shot through the school like a bullet, and the students had hastily joined the teachers on the picket lines: Painting signs, chanting (Daria could faintly hear "Stop the killing!" if she strained her ears), coffee runs, and guard duty. The last worried Daria a bit; she would probably get sued if her students were shot.

The door opened, and in walked another one of the substitutes. "Oh, hey there," he greeted. Daria grunted in reply. "So, what class do they got you in? I'm teaching Junior's English, and let me tell you, there are some fine pieces of ass in that class."

More astonished than anything, Daria replied, "Excuse me?"

"Oh yeah. There's this one girl, Tiffany, I fed her my line about writing a book about a budding woman-child. I figure I'll be tapping that in a week, tops."

Struck silent for a moment, she finally managed to counter: "You do realize you just confessed your intention to commit statutory rape, right?"

The man only smirked. "I knew I pegged you for a smart chick the moment I walked in the door. That's why I didn't bother with any pretense, you would have seen right through it."

"Um." Daria was beginning to feel supremely uncomfortable. "I don't know how I would have 'seen through' to your twisted motives."

The man placed a hand on Daria's knee. "Would you like to have sex?

XXXX

Daria watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the ambulance pulled away from the front of Lawndale High, the striking teachers gathered around to find out what had happened. A police woman was taking Daria's statement. "Oh, and you might find this useful," she added, withdrawing a mini-recorder from her pocket. The officer bemusedly took it.

"Do you make it a habit to carry around recorders?" she asked.

Daria shrugged. "With the principal here, it's more than prudent."

The officer glanced at the building. "Ms. Li is still a bitch, huh? Well, Daria, thank you for your cooperation. We'll let you know if we need anything more." The woman touched the brim of her cap and left.

Ms. Li, on top of things as usual, finally stormed out of the school, shouting "What the HELL are the police doing here? And why are these children out of class? Miss Morgendorffer, what have you done?"

"Well, Ms. Li, Ken Edwards -- the man subbing for Mr. O'Neil -- confessed to me his attempt to have sex with Tiffany Blum-Deckler, and then solicited sex from me, along with unsolicited physical contact. I then proceeded to violate his personal space repeatedly and call the police on his pedophile ass. As a result, I'm too damn traumatized to go back to work, and if you have a problem with that, you'll be getting a call from my mother."

Ms. Li blanched. "Uh. Well. Uh. Very well, Miss Morgendorffer, you are dismissed." She rushed back to her office, hoping to find two new subs or risk shutting the school down.

XXXX

Mr. DeMartino stared across Ms. Li's desk, a shit-eating grin on his face. The newly-drafted contract upped the ante to a 15 pay raise, an executive decision based on the show outside of school earlier in the day. DeMartino could smell blood in the water, and he also knew that Ms. Li's desperate search for subs to replace the newly-vacant positions would be fruitless. He had gotten a call earlier in the day from an acquaintance at Lawndale Middle School -- at which the teachers were also striking -- laughing about Irma Stoller, a septugenarean retired kindergarten teacher who had been called in to teach eighth-grade geography. DeMartino concluded that if they were getting the dregs at LMS, then LHS had absolutely no hope. Ms. Li either signed the contract today, or the school would close. "How about it, Angela?" he crowed. "If you don't sign the contract now, the 'glory of Laaaaaaawndale High' is in jeopardy."

Ms. Li just glared at him, fury boiling over in her eyes. Without a word, she took pen in hand and signed the contract.

DeMartino took the document, stood, and elaborately bowed. "Thank you ever so much, Angela. I hope you have a pleasant day." He strided out of the office triumphantly.

Ms. Li watched him go, waiting for the door to close. She picked up the phone and hit a button on the speed dial. "Hello, Superintendent Cartwright? I've been forced to sign the teachers' contract."

She heard a sigh from the other end of the line. "Angela, the budget you submitted at the beginning of the school year can't take a 10 pay raise --"

"Actually, sir, they forced me to sign a contract stipulating a 15 increase in wages."

"Fifteen percent! Jesus, Angela, where do you think that money's going to come from?"

"I'm sorry, sir, it was either that or close the school. I had to, see, it was --"

"Oh don't give me that honor of Lawndale High horseshit. Angela, where do you intend to pull the money for a 15 pay raise from?"

"Well, I could...cut the janitors' salaries."

"Angela, do you remember what happened the last time you did that?"

Ms. Li shuddered at the memory. She had signed off on a pay raise five minutes after the first bathroom flooded.

"School supplies! The kids don't need new books this year!"

The superintendent sighed. "Angela, have you even read the history books in your own school? The ones that refer to black people as Negroes? I still get angry phone calls from Michelle Landon about that, you know."

"Uh..." Ms. Li's mind searched out, desperate for anything to cut. "...Football?"

Ms. Li was startled by the superintendent's laugh. "Oh Angela, you and I both know that half the parents, led by Doug Thompson, would burn us in effigy. And maybe not 'in effigy', either. No, Angela, I was thinking..." Angela said a silent prayer as she heard papers rustling over the phone. "You seem to budget a lot of money towards school security. Bulletproof glass, metal detectors, bomb-sniffing dogs -- does Lawndale High really need all that stuff? We could have a member of Lawndale PD on duty at the school every day of the week for a fraction of the cost. In fact, Angela, I don't think I've ever seen a bomb-sniffing dog at Lawndale High. Where do you keep them?"

"Uh." Her mind raced. "Uh. They life off-campus, with their handler." She congratulated herself on the quick save.

"Right. Well, Angela, I want you to call up Lawndale PD and ask them permission to hire out an officer, and I want you to otherwise cut all this garbage off the budget. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she said through gritted teeth. 


End file.
